Beautiful Maelstrom
by Aleina Tempest
Summary: Emma feels responsible for destroying Regina's happiness after returning from the Enchanted Forest. Both women search for a way to move on with their lives. When an unexpected event happens, Emma and Regina must rely on each other to survive a dangerous adventure which threatens to bring them closer but also tear them apart.
1. What If's and If Only's

Authors Notes: This story might take a few chapters until it focuses entirely on SQ, I hope you'll stick around to read it! I'll most likely be doing weekly updates on Friday evenings but that could possibly change. I don't own anything Once Upon a Time related. Enjoy!

Soundtrack: Lupercalia by Valentines Day

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><p><strong>Chapter One: What If's and If Only's<strong>

It had been three days since she returned from her time traveling adventures in the Enchanted Forest. Three days since she recreated the moment her own parents fell in love. Three days since seeing Rumplestiltskin in all the glory of golden alligator flesh. Three days since witnessing the terror the Evil Queen wrought upon that land. Her homeland. Three days since attending her first proper ball. Three days since she climbed through yet another portal and back into the arms of her family.

Three days since she irrevocably ruined Regina's life.

Again.

And in those three days, Emma had done little besides laze about in bed with a bottle of vodka at her side trying to drown out the words Regina had spoken to her with the potent liquid. Yet it seemed her efforts to inundate those hateful words only weighed her down more. A suffocating pressure imploded on her, ensconcing her in a tomb of her own unjustified guilt. And so she lay there in bed as the guilt washed over and around her, gently coaxing her further from the shore until it disappeared entirely.

But her intentions had been good. She didn't want to see an innocent woman suffer at the hands of tyrannical queen. She wanted to _be_ the Savior that everyone tried so hard to convince her she was. And rescuing that woman with whom she'd developed a spark of comradery had made her _feel_ like the Savior. It was an entirely different feeling that what she'd experienced before. She supposes now that this is due in part to this action being her own. For once, her decision had not been predetermined by some fate or storybook. Saving Marian had not been foreseen, written, or forced. She made the decision, finally knowing what it felt like to do the _right _thing. Finally knowing what it was like to be the hero…the Savior.

Yet despite her intentions and heroine complex, she succeeded in only causing more pain. More suffering. Perhaps the innocent woman should have been left to the hands of the Evil Queen. Maybe then she wouldn't have this feeling saturating her every thoughts like a wet blanket. Maybe then, this guilt wouldn't be eating away at the very fiber of her being until only a carcass of the person she wanted to be remained; nothing but a picked over meal for the buzzards.

Emma awoke on the fourth morning in much the same fashion as the previous three – with a mouth sour and dry from drink and a throbbing headache a la carte. The incessant wailing of an infant permeated through the floorboard of her bedroom. Emma groaned as she rolled over in bed and tried using her pillow to muffle Neal's crying. Given the intensity of his screaming, Emma knew she wouldn't be falling back to sleep anytime soon; little baby Neal was quite the screamer and Snow and David were still trying to get a firm grasp on this whole parenting thing.

Emma lay there for a moment longer feeling Neal's cries pierce through her skull and bore into her throbbing brain. And when the child's cries became too unbearable, Emma reached over to the nightstand, groping blindly until her fingers found the cooled surface of a glass bottle. Her spine cracked in protest as she pushed herself up into a seated position on the small twin-sized bed. Blonde hair hung lifelessly limp over her shoulders as slender legs crossed themselves into a pretzel. Emma gave the bottle a good shake in an effort to discern the ratio of vodka left undrunk. Muscled thighs held the slender bottle as one pale hand worked to unscrew the cap and the other wiped midnight sediment from her eyes.

The crystalline liquid burned against Emma's dry mouth as it trickled into her empty stomach. She took a few small sips from the bottle before replacing it on the nightstand, next to her open laptop. Emma tapped the mouse to resume the music that had been playing before she fell asleep just a handful of hours ago.

Soft, delicate notes of an acoustic guitar floated from the speakers, filling the air inside the four walls of her old room. Back when it was just her and Mary Margaret. Back when Henry was the crazy kid with an over active imagination. Back when Regina Mills was just the town's bitchy Mayor. Before the curse was broken. Before the wraith and that whole fucked up journey. Before Hook and Operation Save Henry. Before Zelena the envious witch. Before Marian.

There it was again. That thought. That _person_ who was to blame for her current misery. For lack of a better way to cope with her anger and guilt over the entire situation, Emma grabbed for the bottle once more. Only this time she took a drink much heartier than her previous sips. Her thoughts drifted about in a drunken stupor, her feelings faded into a conglomeration of anguish. And soon she couldn't even tell the difference between her anger and her sorrow. She simply felt…heavy. Heavy with a relentless despair which held her captive in this constant state of drunken wallowing.

A fair hand gently shook Emma's shoulder, nudging her from the merciful nap that she had just recently fallen into. Malachite eyes opened slightly to see the rounded face of her concerned mother looking down at her. Her eyes gleamed of sadness, her thin pressed lips expressed disapproval coexisting with understanding.

"Sweetie it's nearly four in the afternoon, it's about time to get up," Snow said with a forced smile.

Emma groaned and pulled the blankets over her head while rolling away from the raven-haired woman.

"Go away," she mumbled from beneath the sheets.

"Henry will be coming over for dinner this evening," she said as cheerfully as possible. "He'd really like to see you. He's been asking about you, you know?"

"Tell him I'm sick," Emma grumbled.

"He's a smart kid…"

"I _know_."

"So…he'll know something's up. He saw you…the night you got back. You were anything but sick."

"Well _now_ I am," Emma huffed, throwing the sheets back from her face in irritation to meet her mother's gaze. Who would've thought that having parents would be so annoying?

"With what, Emma!?" Snow asked as she threw her hands in the air.

"I dunno…bird flu, swine flu…fucking chimera flu…what does it matter. Just tell him I'm sick and leave me alone." Emma said, burying her head in the pillow hoping that Snow would take the hint.

After a long moment, Emma felt the bed rise slightly and the springs creak in appreciation from the reprieve of Snow's added weight.

"This can't go on forever, Emma," Snow sighed as she walked towards the bedroom door. When Emma didn't respond, Snow continued. "I know how you're feeling. The guilt; it's a heavy burden to bear when you've hurt someone. But…you _can't _keep going on like this. You have to find a way to overcome it. If not for me or for yourself, then do it for your son. He needs you."

Emma heard the door handle turn and seconds later the latch click back into place. She knew Snow's words were supposed to be encouraging, to help her find strength but they only made her feel worse. Worse about not seeing her son. Worse about wallowing about for days in a drunken haze. Worse about not having showered for two full days. Worse about the accumulating collection of vodka bottles beneath her bed. Worse about everything.

The afternoon hours slowly bled into the evening and then into darkness once again as the moon rose to her stygian throne. It was nearing midnight by the time Emma had finally gotten herself out of the bed. And with her current bottle of vodka completely empty, she looked for ways to keep herself from thinking…from feeling.

It started with pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth until soon the floorboards began to groan from the repetition of her constant motions. Then came the nail biting and leg bouncing as she sat by the window staring out at the lifeless town of Storybrooke.

It was so different from New York. New York was lively and entertaining. A place where you could walk down the same street everyday but discover something new each time. It was busy and crowded. People shuffled about in their daily lives too consumed with their phone calls or meetings to even pay attention to anyone else. But that's not to say it wasn't a nice place. She had a well-paying job and colleagues who she genuinely liked. And Henry had friends. So many friends in fact that she found it difficult to keep their names straight.

She was happy.

Henry was happy.

And _this_ was only supposed to be a business trip. A quick little break of a curse and then she'd be gone. But as it turns out, leaving Storybrooke was harder than she'd imagined. While the other residents seemed hell bent on getting out, Emma found that – magical town line or not – leaving was ten times harder than coming.

Everything that she had ever wanted was here. She found the family that was once lost to her. She found her son after 11 years of wondering who he was. She found friends and as eclectic as they are, she cared deeply for them.

That's what made all of this so damn hard. It was the fact that she cared. She'd developed relationships and of all things – roots. So when her own mother looked at her like she was a failure, it hurt. And when her father came home in the evenings too exhausted to even change Neal's diaper because he was doing the work of two people, she felt like shit. And when the texts from Henry came through asking her what she thought of various apartments, she felt like a failure.

Because while she lay in bed trying to drink away her misery, the people she cared about – her family – they still _needed_ her. And she couldn't even put her feelings aside for one fucking minute to be there for them. If she didn't care so much for her friends and family, none of this would be so hard. She would have already packed her bags and would be on the interstate back to New York.

She used to think that love was strength.

But maybe Regina was right all along.

Love is weakness.

Because that's what all of this came down to. Love. The amicable relationships she'd built with everyone in town were rooted in one common emotion; love. It always came back to love.

It is not entirely lost on her either that she harbors some feeling towards the town's soon-to-be ex-mayor. How could she not after the ordeals they went through? Perhaps she will not go so far as to say she loves the woman. But she also knows that at minimum she cares about her. And that's precisely why all of this is so hard.

After months of being at one another's throats they had finally developed some sort of unspoken yet civil understanding. Though this is a fact that neither woman commented on, they both knew to be true. She tried so hard build their relationship into what it is, rather, what it _was_ before she made the decision to bring Marian to Storybrooke.

If only she could despise the woman like she used too…

Now, they're back to square one. Perhaps even worse this time.

If only there was a switch she could throw that would turn off the part of her that cared. To return her to her former self before she'd developed these _attachments_ to the people in Storybrooke. To let the guilt from her veins.

If only she could _not_ care.

If only…

Emma sighed and pulled out her cellphone, the LED screen casting a ghostly aura onto her already pale skin. She tapped through her contact list until highlighting Regina's name and clicking the message button. The cursor flashed like metronome. Each flash mocking her indecision to type a message, the blank screen a testament to her own uncertainty.

Emma chewed on the inside of her lip as she thought of exactly what she was about to do, of what she was about to ask. It would be irreversible. But it seemed like the only way to make things better. She didn't see any other options. She needed to do this, needed to let go, needed to be let go. Seconds ticked by but still the blonde had yet to type a single word. She sighed and gently set her phone on the windowsill, opting out of such a high-stakes decision while drunk and craving even more drink. Being just past midnight, Emma would have to wait until morning to restock. In the meantime, she'd try to sleep. And this time she hoped for more than just a few hours of tossing and turning.


	2. Day Five

**Authors Notes: This is kind of a slow chapter but I promise a better one next week! I own nothing Once Upon a Time related.**

**Soundtrack: Tears in the Fountain by Brian Crain**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter Two: Day Five<strong>

Her rest, such as it was, amounted to nothing more than a few short minutes of peaceful unconsciousness interspersed randomly throughout the night. She'd spent most of the night awake, just lying in bed, drawing imaginary patterns on the ceiling. During the few merciful minutes of sleep she managed to claim she merely teetered on the edge of a light sleep, just enough to soothe the aching of her bones but not enough to nourish her exhausted muscles.

Emma's latest short burst of rest had ended at 5:30 in the morning, long before the sun would ascend from behind the trees. Attempting to sleep again just seemed like a waste of time when the results would surely be the same as they had been throughout the night. Perhaps she'd pass out for a few more minutes but eventually she'd wake once again feeling just as shitty as she did right now. At this point she figured why even bother. Frustrated from lack of sleep, Emma reached around in the darkness for the bottle of vodka she'd been sipping from just a few hours ago.

Slim fingers knocked against the elusive bottle with more force than she'd intended. And as a result, the bottle had tipped and fell towards the floorboards and landing with a clatter. Emma's stomach dropped when she thought of the shards that would splay across the ground like a fine dusting of powdered sugar. She jerked upright in bed, cursing under her breath as she was sure the shattering glass would awaken her parents and the infant. But no sound came save for her anticipatory breathing. Emma sighed in relief before peering down to the floor, preparing herself to see the shattered remains of her only freedom from pain.

Much to her great relief the bottle hadn't shattered.

Much to her dismay the bottle was empty.

Emma struggled to remember when she had finished the bottle but couldn't seem to recall. The past days had been nothing but a blur of vodka and sleeplessness. She rolled out of bed and dropped herself to the floor, with arms stretching beneath the bed hoping that amongst the graveyard of glass would be a bottle with the slightest offering of drink. A frenzied anxiety crept across her skin as each body she recovered couldn't even offer a drop.

Running her fingers through tangled, lackluster hair, Emma stood up abruptly and paced around in circles. She needed a drink. She needed to calm her nerves. She needed to drown out the guilt. She needed to be numb. Her pacing ceased when she caught a glimpse of herself in the full-sized mirror situated in the corner, next to an empty chest of drawers. Knowing that her intentions were never to stay here, Emma hadn't bothered to unpack all of her clothes. Instead, she opted to throw her dirty clothes into a pile in front of the chest of drawers while the small remainder of her clean clothes remained hidden inside a large knapsack.

Emma stared at her reflection. The milky light from the moon washed over her, brightly illuminating her blanched face even in the otherwise aphotic room. The skin around her eyes was darkened by the telltale signs of sleep deprivation…or of binge alcoholism; at this point, she couldn't be sure which to blame more. And as she looked at herself, fingers tracing the sharpness of her jaw, Emma didn't even recognize the person staring back at her.

She looked like shit.

Hell, she felt like shit.

Emma ripped her eyes from the reflection, refusing to believe just how bad things had gotten. She looked at her trembling hands as she held them out in front of her. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself, to stop the shaking. But the more she tried, the more she concentrated, the worse the shaking became.

There was only one way she knew to calm her nerves. It just very well happened to be through the substance that caused the quavering in the first place. The very liquid she'd been drowning herself in for days, the liquid that resulted in pounding headaches after glorious numbness. Emma knew how insane it was to feed the fire which would eventually burn her alive. But she needed to feel better. And a drink or two would be just the thing to make that happen. The only obstacle now was where to procure such a thing at such an unorthodox hour. Perhaps she could pop on over to the Granny's and see about picking the lock on the backdoor. The bat-shit crazy woman was known to keep a good liquor or two beneath the counter for certain celebrations. Celebrations such as returning back to Storybrooke via portal or vanquishing a terribly powerful foe.

With any luck, Granny wouldn't be hosting one of those parties for quite some time. And she was getting old, right? She probably would be none the wiser if one little bottle disappeared.

With her unhinged mind made up, Emma pulled on a pair of plaid pajama pants and threw a hoodie on overtop the Rolling Stones t-shirt she'd been lying around in for the past two days. She grabbed at her unruly hair and captured it in a sloppily crafted ponytail at the back of her head. Bypassing her normal knee length boots, Emma slid into a pair of rubber bottomed slippers and quietly tiptoed from her room and onto the main floor of the flat.

She wasn't so much worried about what Snow or David would say if they happened upon her leaving the flat at such an hour as she was about making too much noise and waking baby Neal. Over the past week or so, her parents had been getting more than a fair amount of early morning wake up calls from Neal already and Emma didn't intend to tack on another.

For that reason, she took extra care when opening the old creaky door and exercised the same amount of caution when closing the door after she stepped into the brisk Maine morning. She breathed deeply, smelling the sharp, almost minty undertones of the surrounding pine and various evergreen trees. It was chilly but not unbearably so. Though without a hat, the chilly air made quick work of nipping at her ears, tinging them roseate.

She pulled the black hood over her head, tightened the strings, and set off in the direction of Granny's.

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><p>"Em, is that you?"<p>

Emma was sitting at one of the old birch lacquered picnic tables set up on the patio in front of Granny's, her head tucked tightly in her arms as she hunkered over the wooden surface.

"Emma?" The voice called again.

The blonde sighed heavily, lifting her head from the table and turning towards the woman who had just called out to her.

"Ruby," Emma greeted, her face expressionless.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Ruby asked as she rushed over to the table and knelt beside the blonde. "God you look like shit."

"Thanks."

"C'mon, it's cold out here, let's go inside," Ruby suggested, dangling the keys to Granny's from her fingers.

Emma had wanted to protest, but lacked the energy to argue with the blithely brunette. So instead, she pushed herself from the bench and followed Ruby slowly on wobbly feet.

"Woah, you alright there?" Ruby asked

Emma swayed dangerously, her arms jerking out each time her body leaned too far left or too far right. She concentrated on her feet as she approached the threshold to the diner.

"Oh…yeah, great."

Emma ducked her head as she slipped past the waitress and shuffled languidly to the furthest stool at the bar.

"You don't look alright…" Ruby said as she came around the bar, flipping the switches machines which bubbled and percolated excitedly.

"So you've mentioned."

Ruby chewed on the inside of her lip as she studied the blonde woman sitting at the bar. She'd never seen Emma look so…terrible. Snow had mentioned just the previous day that Emma wasn't feeling well but she wasn't prepared for _this_.

"So uhh...what're you doing here so early?"

"I needed a drink." Emma replied, shrugging her shoulders casually.

"Well, hell, I know Granny's has the best coffee in Storybrooke but I've never known someone to sit outside and wait until we open just for a cup," Ruby teased as she pulled out a bin of clean silverware and began rolling two forks, a spoon, and a knife inside a clean, white napkin.

"Not _that_ kind of drink," Emma said as she pulled the small bottle of amber liquid from her hoodie pocket and placed it on the countertop.

"Emma!" Ruby exclaimed, snatching the bottle and examining the label. "What the hell? This is from Granny's party stash. She is literally going to kill you."

"Doubt that," Emma said, finally looking directly at Ruby so she could see the withering person Emma was becoming under the full fluorescent lighting. Ruby studied the blonde's ghostly pallor, the darkness surrounding her sunken eyes, and even the way her hands shook as they rested atop the counter. "I'd say I'm doing a rather swell job of that already."

"Jesus Emma…what the hell is going on with you?" Ruby asked, hurrying around the bar and coming to take a seat next to the blonde woman. "And I'm not even gonna bother to ask exactly how you got ahold of Granny's stash. I don't even wanna know."

Emma sighed. She didn't really want to talk to Ruby about all this. It wasn't that she didn't trust Ruby because she _did_ trust her. Emma had never really made a habit of sharing feelings and talking about her problems. She'd never had anyone to help her before so she learned how to cope on her own. Granted her methods weren't the most practical or the healthiest, but she was dealing. And she had a plan to make all of this go away.

"It doesn't matter, everything will be better soon," Emma replied with an apathetic smile.

Ruby frowned and placed a hand on Emma's arm.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, Em,"

"I know," the blonde replied, gently moving her arm from Ruby's hand.

"So then talk to me, what's going on?"

"It's just something I have to deal with, okay?"

Ruby hopped over the counter and poured a cup of steaming hot French roast coffee, placing it in front of Emma. The blonde peered down at the blackened caffeine, allowing the steam to rise up and warm the flesh of her sickly looking face.

"Don't tell me you're upset over your breakup?" Ruby asked with a little chuckle.

Emma looked up, brows furrowed together.

"What breakup?"

"Don't play stupid Em," Ruby said from somewhere beneath the counter. When she popped back up she was holding a dusty bottle of Bailey's from which – against her better judgment – she poured a generous amount into Emma's coffee. She nodded towards the blonde. "This'll make you feel better."

"What breakup?" Emma repeated, her eyes falling to the now caramel colored liquid in the cup before her. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic surface and inhaled deeply through her nose.

"Your breakup with Hook," Ruby called as she unlocked the till and began counting out the money, ensuring she began the day with the appropriate amount.

Emma snorted.

"_That _was not a breakup," She replied definitively. "One must be invested in a _real _relationship for the subsequent breakup to occur. And we were definitely _not_ in a relationship."

Ruby stopped and stared at the blonde woman who was twirling a spoon lazily in her coffee. After a few seconds of silence, Emma looked up at the leggy brunette.

"What?" She asked upon seeing the rather perturbed look on the waitress's face.

"Sorry, you just sounded an awful lot like Regina…" Ruby trailed off, shaking her head with a laugh and going back to the task at hand.

"I'm _nothing_ like Regina," Emma ground out through gritted teeth. "And I wasn't dating Hook."

Mercifully, the waitress didn't say another word on the subject. In fact, the uncomfortable silence that now hung in the air was perfectly fine with Emma. She hadn't wanted to engage in such a conversation with Ruby in the first place. She just had to continue poking and probing and bringing such ridiculous things up like Emma's supposed relationship with the Pirate.

And then she'd said _her_ name.

Ruby was quite oblivious to the impact _her _name has on the blonde. The very simple fact was that _her _name was a dagger and every time Emma heard it, another stab pierced her lungs. It always happened unexpectedly which made things even worse. But regardless of when it came, the same thing always happened; difficulty breathing followed by remembrances of guilt.

Emma raised the small ceramic coffee cup to her lips, taking her first sip of the warm liquid tentatively and feeling the instant gratification of the warmth pooling in her empty stomach. The nutty flavor of the Bailey's adding a sweet undertone to the bitter coffee. She downed the rest of the small cup greedily.

"Can I get some more of this?" Emma asked, studying the empty mug in her hand.

Ruby sauntered back over and took the mug from Emma and filled it with more coffee before setting it back down in front of her. The blonde waited patiently for Ruby to add more of the Bailey's to her coffee but instead of doing so, Ruby crossed the restaurant to unlock the door and flip on the 'open' sign.

"I'll be straight with you Emma," Ruby said, walking back over to her. "You're clearly going through something and if you don't wanna talk about it, fine, that's your deal. But it's also very obvious that whatever the issue is…you're not handling it well –"

"-I said everything will be fine-"

"-Everything will _not_ be fine if you keep drinking like this Emma! You look miserable and you reek of alcohol, I can practically smell it oozing from your pores. Can you imagine what Henry will think if he sees you like this?" Ruby chastised. "You're his _mother_, he looks up to you and it will kill him to see you like this."

"Snow told him I was sick, that'll buy me enough time to get everything figured out…"

"There's nothing to figure out Emma!" Ruby threw her hands in the air. "It's as simple as this…stop drinking and find another way to get over your problems. Go whack at some stones with a pickaxe or slash a sparring dummy with a sword, do _something_ other than this."

Emma wanted to respond, she wanted to say something, _anything_ to justify her why she was doing this but she found she not only didn't have the energy but she didn't have the desire to explain it all to Ruby. The young waitress wouldn't understand anyway. No one really understood. So instead of firing back at the waitress, Emma threw her hood over her head and stared down at her cup of coffee, her hunched shoulders showing the signs of defeat.

As time wore on, Emma became vaguely aware of the increasing noise in the diner around her. She heard people talking and laughing. Some people spoke in quiet, hushed voices while others spoke a little too loud for the small space. She heard it all but heard nothing at the same time. The voices of those around her were nothing more than white noise, just something to punctuate an otherwise endless silence.

She neither looked to her right nor to her left as she had little desire to see which of Storybrooke's citizens decided to come into the diner this morning. Moreover, she had no desire to converse with any of them. So there she sat with a hood over her head, staring downwards and drinking cup after cup of coffee.

While it had been made clear to her that the waitress wasn't particularly happy with Emma at the moment, Ruby also saw to it that Emma's cup never went unfilled. Silently, Emma appreciated this. The coffee did little to brighten her mood but the small bit of energy it provided was a most welcome relief to the constant state of grogginess she'd been in for the past five days.

It wasn't until Ruby set an oversized plate of sausage gravy and biscuits in front of her did Emma look up to acknowledge the younger woman. When Ruby noticed her the confusion on Emma's face she just smiled and shrugged.

"You look like you could use something to eat."

Emma forced a smile and mumbled a weak thank taking her first whiff of the food placed before her, Emma's stomach growled so loud her cheeks reddened slightly as she was sure the people sitting nearby could hear it. Despite the intense growling of her stomach, Emma found it difficult to bring herself to unwrap the silverware and dig into the steaming plate of biscuits. She rolled the silverware around on the countertop, completely unaware of a piercing gaze watching her every move.


	3. Untamed Curiosity

A/N: Okay, so I realize I missed updating last week. End of semester pressures and all that jazz. So, I'll also be uploading the fourth chapter today as well. Hopefully I'll be able to get back to regular updates now! Thanks to everyone who has messaged me and for the follows/favs. I own nothing Once Upon a Time related.

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: Untamed Curiosity<strong>

Sienna eyes studied the hunched figure of a woman sitting at the counter from behind the morning edition of the Storybrooke Mirror. The woman under scrutiny had gone unnoticed for quite some time and it was highly probable that she would have remained unnoticed if the service at Granny's was any better. In fact, Regina's impatience with one scantily clad waitress had been the only reason she lifted her eyes from the paper in the first place.

Being the Mayor of Storybrooke definitely had its perks. One of which being that, Regina Mills didn't need to exercise patience; she was treated as royalty at every Storybrooke establishment regardless of the whether or not the owners loathed her. Because she was the Mayor. She had power. But now, with her job in transition to the retched Snow White, Regina found that the little perks she'd come to enjoy were not quite the same. And it seemed as though the Lucas girl was just breaking her into garden variety life a few days too soon.

While this fact indeed angered the almost-ex-Mayor, she found it was not nearly as terrible as one might think, especially now that she didn't have an agenda full of meetings and schemings to see to. So while she wasn't quite fond of waiting, it was made more bearable knowing that she needn't rush to her first of many pointless meetings of the day. As far as she was concerned, in three more days when the official inauguration of the new Mayor was to take place, Regina would never need to worry herself over another pedestrian meeting again.

And yet, her impatience was a characteristic that still required training. And as such, she averted her eyes from the morning paper to locate the young waitress and inquire as to why she had been waiting 20 minutes for a bowl of oatmeal and fruit salad. When Regina finally located the waitress in question, she was giving a beaming smile to a hunched over figure sitting at the bar. At first glance, Regina wouldn't have known that person to be one of the two town Sheriff's. Had it not been for the blonde hair peaking from beneath a drawn hood, Regina may not have come to the conclusion that the rather sickly looking person sitting at the bar was indeed Emma Swan.

The simple fact of knowing that she was breathing the same air as the spawn of the Charming's had caused some unforeseen side effects in her current mood. Regina's impatience quickly grew to a seething anger as she recalled the awful events which had taken place only a few nights ago; the night when she witnessed the reunion of Hood and his darling little Roland with a woman whom Regina had thought to be dead.

But even with the anger boiling in her veins, she found something strangely satisfactory and almost cathartic about the blonde's current demeanor. And so she resigned herself to sit back and watch as the hooded woman toyed with her rolled up silverware all the while staring at the generous proportion of food in front of her. There was a small part – a very small part - of her that desired to know what malady the blonde was afflicted with. She hoped it to be something terribly befitting for the 'happy ending home wrecker', but knowing Fate as the cruel mistress she is, Regina figured it was more than likely due to the breakup between the blonde and her pirate.

She heard of the breakup one evening while sipping a glass of cabernet franc at the Rabbit Hole. Though she typically abhorred that establishment, it was the only place in town she could get a drink and avoid Robin, Marian, and the whole coterie de heros. She wanted to be alone. But being alone in her too-large house was simply saddening. Each room mocked her with echoes of laughter from a brief but euphoric past with Robin. And so while Henry was staying the night with the Charming's, Regina allowed herself a reprieve from her heartache in a bottle of wine at the repugnant bar. She wanted to be alone. Not lonely.

Sometime later while she sat silently at the bar, the short man – Mr. Smee, she recalled – had begun announcing rather loudly to some other men that Emma had broken the captain's heart.

So, perhaps that was the reason for the Sheriff's current state, though it hadn't escaped Regina exactly how ridiculous that sounded. Even after losing Neal, on more than one occasion, she had never seen the blonde react in such a way. Whatever was currently troubling the Sheriff had to be much more than a mere breakup.

Regina blinked, realizing she'd been staring at the blonde while lost in thought. She noticed that at some point Emma had unrolled her silverware and was currently knuckle-rolling the fork with nimble fingers. After a moment of hesitation, the blonde pulled down her hood and stabbed at the biscuits.

The hitch in Regina's breath was nearly audible as she glanced at a fuller view of Emma for the first time since _that_ night. Even from her position at the opposite end of the diner, Regina was shocked by the sallowness of her skin. Emma had always been a fair woman, a complexion inherited from her mother, but this was something else entirely. She looked ill and almost ghastly.

The blonde had brought a small portion of food to her mouth and passed it through her lips slowly, chewing on the bit of food unenthusiastically. Although Regina's current position only allowed her a partial view of the Sheriff's face, she could make out the darkness surrounding the woman's right eye. She couldn't be sure if the left eye bore the same markings and as such, curiosity tingled under her skin as she desired to know whether the woman had been unfortunate in an altercation…or if there was something more to the darkness bruising alabaster flesh.

Regina's impatience mixed with her curiosity had excited her nerves and ignited a fire of intrigue in her mind. She found it more and more difficult to wait patiently in her booth for the little waitress to arrive with her breakfast. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, folded the paper and stuffed it beneath her arm before hoisting her purse to her opposite shoulder. The dark woman strode with purpose to the counter until she was standing only a few feet from where the blonde was sitting, swirling her fork in the unappealing, lumpy slop on her plate.

"Excuse me, Miss Lucas, but I've decided to have my breakfast to go," Regina stated to the waitress whose back was turned as she fiddled with the espresso machine.

A clatter resounded from Regina's left and she turned her head just in time to see the Sheriff dropping her fork suddenly on the plate before her. Emma stuffed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and appeared to be mumbling something inaudibly at her plate of food.

"Sure, Regina, it'll be right out," Ruby called as she trotted to the service window separating the kitchen from the dining room.

"Miss Mills," Regina corrected the waitress. She sat at the stool, leaving only one desolate seat between herself and the Sheriff.

"Whatever!" Ruby hollered back.

Regina unfolded the newspaper once more and feigned interest in one of the stories on the front page while simultaneously watching the blonde from the corner of her eye. It took a large amount of practiced self-control not to have chuckled when the blonde was so startled by her presence. And it took even more now not to snipe at the younger woman. Instead, she made a show of sighing irritably and looking from her paper, past the Sheriff, and to the service window where she had last seen Ruby.

"Anytime now Miss Lucas, some of us have schedules to adhere to," Regina said, rolling her eyes. "Oh, Sheriff Swan, I didn't see you there," she finished in a bored tone which juxtaposed the shrewd smile stretching across her face.

Emma froze. Her once hyperactive awareness of her surroundings had been compromised by her wallowing so much so that she hadn't even heard the woman sitting beside her approach. Nor did she smell the signature apple and vanilla aroma that surrounded Regina. And while all the voices around her registered as a dull humming in her mind, the former Evil Queen's voice resounded clear as vodka. So when she'd heard the woman calling out to Ruby, Emma froze.

She was positive that disappearing altogether at this very moment would be a welcomed blessing. She made note to ask Rumplestiltskin about the validity of an invisibility cloak. Having one of those suckers right now would be invaluable. But the fact of the matter remained, she did not have an invisibility cloak nor could she simply disappear. Perhaps she should have learned how to poof away in a cloud of smoke before pissing Regina off so badly.

Emma had no idea what to even say to the woman. She didn't have the energy to get into a verbal spar nor did she have the overt desire to even face the woman knowing that she looked about two steps away from death's door. Hell, she wasn't even sure she'd be able to utter a word to the woman without her pale cheeks glowing unabashedly red with her own embarrassment and shame. So the Sheriff resigned herself to giving a slight nod and a polite utterance of Regina's name in acknowledgment of her greeting.

A sniff of disdain followed and Emma could feel the dark woman's eyes roaming up and down her body, drinking in all of her pathetic state. Under the Mayor's scrutiny, Emma knew the reddening of her cheeks was inevitable as she felt the heat begin to rise up her neck, all the way to her ears.

"Well I must say that this conversation is rather one-sided. What's the matter, Sheriff? Cat got your tongue?" Regina snarked, studying the blonde and noting way her jaw stiffened. "Or do you simply prefer to converse with biscuits?"

"Leave her alone, Regina, she's not feeling well," Ruby interjected, setting a take-out tray in front of Regina with impeccable timing.

"Miss Mills," Regina corrected again. "And I can see that our dear Sheriff is feeling rather…under the weather. You look positively atrocious, dear."

Regina took a bill from her purse and handed it to Ruby instructing her to keep the change. She collected her takeout tray and readjusted her purse on her shoulder before standing up and giving the blonde woman one last look.

"Oh, and do see to it that you make it a point to shower Miss Swan, I daresay your odor is rather offensive," Regina stated before turning on her heel and exiting the diner.

"What was _that_ all about?" Ruby asked, refilling Emma's coffee cup once more and wiping the few scattered droplets of coffee which landed on the counter.

Emma pushed her barely touched breakfast away from her causing the brunette waitress to eye her suspiciously. It was unlike the blonde to leave leftovers on her plate, especially such a large amount. Ruby chose not to comment on it though, satisfied that she had at least eaten a few bites.

"Nothing," Emma finally said, pulling her hood back over her head.

"Look, Em, I know that Regina is still sore about the whole Marian thing but she's tough, she'll be okay," Ruby offered.

"I know she's tough. That's kinda what I worry about."

"Hmm yeah, I guess you're right. I mean, cursing an entire kingdom over a spilled secret is pretty harsh."

"_Not_ helping."

* * *

><p>Regina walked to the Mayor's office with her head held high. Seeing the Sheriff in such a pitiful state had brought her a perverse sense of joy. Schadenfreude or not, it seemed to be the beginning of a suitable punishment for the woman. She didn't care how or why Emma suffered. Regina simply wanted her to suffer. After all, she deserves to pay the price for destroying Regina's happiness. Had she not learned anything from her mother?<p>

Then again, there was that pesky little thought in the recesses of her mind which desired to know exactly what was causing the blonde such pain. It was that damned curiosity again. She reasoned that she truly did not care, but she did need to know. Such information could be a powerful tool and Regina intended on using any means necessary to ensure the Sheriff suffered for as long as possible. Because if Regina was made to feel the emptiness of another lost love then surely the one responsible for bringing the loss about should feel just as bad.

Feeling the positively delighted that she once again had a person to make suffer, Regina entered the office where Snow was already sitting behind the desk holding Neal in her arms and making soft cooing noises.

"Good morning, Regina," Snow said with a smile on her face.

"You're in my chair," Regina pointed out as she lowered her takeout tray and purse to the table. "I do hope you've managed to keep your child from vomiting all over it."

Snow rolled her eyes but nonetheless removed herself from the chair so that Regina could sit down. She bounced Neal in her arms as she walked over to the crib that had been set up in the office.

"That's only _your_ chair for another three days."

"I'm well aware of that," Regina said with a roll of her eyes. As if she needed another reminder.

Snow smiled and shook her head as she walked back over to the desk and lowered herself into one of the seats opposite from Regina.

"So…how are you?" Snow questioned, her voice imbued with compassion and concern.

"I'm fine." Regina snapped back as she booted up the computer. "I prefer not to broach the subject of my personal life."

Snow's smile faltered. "Yeah, okay, I just want you to know that if you need anything I'm here for you."

"Oh my dear Snow, do you _really_ think I'd confide anything to you?" Regina questioned, raising a brow as she tried to keep from laughing in the woman's face. "I doubt you would be able to keep anything to yourself even if I sewed your lips together."

Snow opened and closed her mouth a few times.

"…I thought we were passed this?" She lamented with a sad smile which earned a scoff from Regina.

"Why? Because we went camping in Neverland? That was no kumbayah friendship building wilderness trip," Regina said, piercing the fairer woman with a heated stare. "We are most definitely _not_ passed this."

Snow sighed in defeat, no longer wishing to be on the receiving end of Regina's venomous barbs. She put her hands up as a show of surrender and went to check on Neal before immersing herself in another day of learning the ins-and-outs of being the Storybrooke Mayor. Regina had already showed her an overwhelming amount of things ranging from financial spreadsheets to business proposals and even taxing projects meant to improve the beautification of the town.

Regina waited patiently for the still-pudgy-from-pregnancy woman to return to the desk and in the meantime, she opened her takeout box and peckishly stabbed at the fruit salad with her fork. After a few nibbles of tart fruit, Regina dumped he entire tray in the trashcan. She cleared her throat and addressed Snow from across the room.

"I hear that the Sheriff is unwell," Regina said, raising a brow.

"Who? Daivd? No he's fine."

"The _other_ Sheriff."

"Oh…" Snow said, worrying her lip as if she wasn't sure what to say on the situation. She walked slowly back to her seat before Regina's desk.

"I trust she will be well enough to attend the mayoral inauguration this Saturday?" Regina questioned.

"I hope so, yes," Snow nodded. "She's got uh…chimera flu."

"Chimera flu?" Regina questioned, skepticism made clear by her arched brows and chiding smirk.

"Yeah, I guess she picked up when she and Hook, well…you know," Snow said with a shrug of her shoulders. She squirmed in her chair, feeling suddenly uneasy about lying so directly to the woman before her.

"Mhmm," Regina hummed. "And has our dear Captain displayed any signs of this sickness?"

Snow paused. "I don't really know. I haven't seen him since the night they returned. Do you think he's okay?"

Regina nearly laughed. "I neither know nor care about the well-being of that coxswain though I fear the Rabbit Hole may be missing their most valued patron."

Much to Regina's surprise, Snow chuckled lightly then slapped a hand over her mouth as if she was embarrassed to have laughed at such a comment.

"I'm sure he'll turn up at some point," Snow shrugged again. "So what's on the agenda for today?"

"I'll be showing you how to balance the town's expenditures and revenue as well as instructing you on how to allocate funds for various offices and business in town that require additional assistance."


	4. Repetition

A/N: As promised, the fourth chapter today :) As I've been going back and editing my chapters I've come to realize that this story might turn out to be a really long one. I hope you'll stick around for it! I own nothing Once Upon a Time related.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Chapter Four: Repetition<strong>

Emma had left the diner shortly after her interaction with Regina. She didn't want another encounter with the woman or anyone else for that matter. So she trudged back home, walking slower than normal despite the ridiculous amount of coffee buzzing through her nerves. Admittedly, after eating a little she was beginning to feel a bit better - physically at least - but other than that, nothing else had changed.

She walked back towards the flat she shared with her parents and Neal, ignoring the few 'hellos' uttered by some of the citizens. For the most part, she kept her head down, shielding her eyes from the morning sun and blocking out the monotonous, unerring line of evergreen trees alongside of the road. She thought of what Ruby had said to her this morning; about how she needed to find another way to deal with her problems. She knew that finding another outlet other than the bottle was a better way of dealing with things. But she had her doubts about the effectiveness of these alternate methods. After all, if a mind-numbing drink couldn't assuage the guilt she felt, she highly doubted that whacking at dummies with a sword would do much either.

In all reality, Emma knew there would only be two ways she could overcome the guilt within her. The first of which would be with Regina's forgiveness but given their most recent interaction, Regina seemed not at all interested in providing any sort of forgiveness. So that left her with the option behind door number two.

To forget it all.

That's all she wanted; to forget everything and go back to her previous life. And maybe it was just her current state of hangover limbo making her feel this way. Maybe blame should be placed on the alcohol she'd been greedily consuming though she had her doubts about that.

Lately, she'd been feeling empty. It was difficult to put the feelings into words. There were moments when she would feel anger or sadness so profoundly that it shook every bone in her body. But when that moment passed, Emma resurfaced into numbness. Her body had been ravaged by her own guilt. And that guilt ripped through her like a summer wildfire until everything burned to ash. And once everything had burned and the embers ebbed from existence, all that was left was an emptiness.

Being back here in Storybrooke, surrounded by her family, her friends, and her son – that should have been enough to ward away the emptiness. Everything she ever wanted out of life was right here. And yet, some part of her still felt empty.

But still, Emma assumed that some of the feeling must have been due in part her heavy consumption of alcohol. She figured she owed it to herself to find out before making any drastic decisions. She'd lay off the drinking, get herself looking better, starting with the nice hot shower as suggested by the Mayor and go from there. And if she was feeling just as lonely and incomplete after a few days of sobriety, then she would know that the fault couldn't fall on the alcohol. Then she would know beyond a sliver of a doubt what she needed to do to cure herself of this misery once and for all.

The rest of the afternoon drug on impossibly slow. Emma jumped into the shower as soon as she arrived at the flat. She scrubbed deeply at her skin with a bubbly soap called 'Sunshine and Kitten Whiskers'. It was yellow and shimmering. It smelled of baby powder and potpourri. It was definitely a Mary Margaret nuance.

After Emma rinsed away the alcohol-induced sluggishness, she stripped her bed of the sheets she'd been lying around in and threw them in the wash. She gathered the embarrassingly high number of vodka bottles from beneath her bed and put them in the trash before anyone got home. Once the bed had been remade with freshly laundered sheets, the blonde found herself in a state of unsettling restlessness.

Should she go into work and maybe give David a reprieve from all the shifts he'd been pulling? Should she check in with the kid so that he didn't get too worried about her uncharacteristic absence over the past few days? Should she offer to look after Neal while Snow was working? Emma began to pace in much the same fashion she'd been doing the previous night.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Soon her mind turned back to the comforting warmth provided by the vodka. The virulent liquid passing through her lips and down her throat was the only thing that made her feel a little less empty. She imagined the liquid seeping into some dark crawlspaces in her mind that typically remained unnoticed. And when she consumed enough alcohol so that her mind became enshrouded in a thick fog and her restlessness was at ease, she finally felt a slight reprieve from the shackles of guilt.

A loud beep resounded in the empty flat which causing Emma to jump at the sudden noise. Though she recognized it to be the text tone on her phone and pulled it out to see one unread message from Henry.

"I need ur help."

"With what, kid?" She typed back. Emma sat on the well-worn sofa, placing her phone face up on her thigh and bounced her legs impatiently waiting for a response.

"Something for school."

"If it's chemistry count me out."

Another minute ticked by.

"Music"

"Come by after school?"

"K"

Emma had no idea what aspect of music Henry needed help with and his vague messages didn't help with that either. She was fairly certain that given Henry's grade level, it couldn't be something _that _difficult. She remembered most of the basics of music theory from the bit of high school she actually attended. And even after that, she often found solace in dabbling in music. Perhaps it was something about the solitary process or the creative freedom to express herself which she enjoyed. Whatever the reason was, Emma found an immense fascination in how instruments could express so perfectly through course strings and smooth ivory exactly how she was feeling.

She checked the time on her watch before darting into the bathroom to take inventory of the pain manifested on her face. Dark, prominent circles cradled matte green eyes. She smeared some concealer onto the skin around her eyes and even dabbed a faint stroke of blush on her cheeks. Her efforts hadn't done much to help but she thought she looked at least a fraction better than she did before. She sighed and trudged back to the living room where she impatiently awaited Henry's arrival.

After about 10 minutes, she heard his excited footsteps hurrying up the rickety wooden stairs followed by a soft thud as he jammed a key into the keyhole and turned the lock.

"Hey kid," Emma jumped from the couch, thankful for the welcome distraction from her thoughts. She walked over to the door to greet her son.

"Hi mom," he said, wrapping his arms around her for a brief second before ducking back out of the door. Before Emma could question what he was doing, Henry reappeared with a large, black guitar case in his hands.

"You want some hot cocoa?" She asked, she watched her son run past her to the couch where he deposited the guitar case and nearly jumped out of his jacket.

"What kind of question is that?" Henry replied with playful sarcasm as he unlatched the multiple hinges on the outside of the case.

Emma chuckled and set to work preparing a hot cup of cocoa for her son. She watched him as he pulled a well-used guitar from the case and set it gingerly on the couch before closing the case and standing it in the corner. The guitar itself looked a little worse for wear. She assumed it was one which belonged to the school which was loaned out to the students and had therefore weathered many years in the hands of irresponsible kids.

"So what's with the guitar?" Emma asked as she mixed the cocoa and retrieved a bottle of whipped cream from the fridge.

"I have to learn to play for music class," Henry shrugged indifferently as he leaned against the counter waiting anxiously for his steaming mug of cocoa.

"Isn't that why you're in the class? To learn?" Emma asked as she topped the massive swirl of whipped cream with a sprinkle of cinnamon. She pointedly ignored his nonchalant actions which began shortly before their return to Storybrooke, figuring it was normal teen boy stuff.

"Well, yeah, I guess but I dunno…" Henry trailed off.

"But what?"

"I'm no good at it," Henry shrugged, picking up the mug and taking a small sip, careful not to ingest too much lest he burn his tongue. "Everyone else is better than me."

Emma frowned, hating the disenchanted look on her son's face.

"Do you like playing?" She asked, walking past him and ruffling his hair a bit. She ran her fingers down the hick strings of the instrument lying on the couch.

"It's okay I guess."

"Well if you like playing then that's all that matters, kid."

"I know, I know," Henry rolled his eyes and joined his mother by the couch. "I just want to be better, ya know?"

Emma understood. Henry didn't need to say anymore because Emma already knew exactly how he was feeling. She had felt it all through her childhood. That desire to feel like you're actually good at something. To know that you have one exceptional talent that sets you apart from every single other person.

"Don't worry, kid, we'll make a rock star out of you yet," Emma encouraged, nudging his foot with hers.

Henry smiled and took another sip of his cocoa.

"Are you sure you feel up to it? Grams said you weren't feeling good…"

"Hell yeah I'm feeling up to it," Emma beamed as she picked the instrument up and nestled it in her lap.

The smooth curves hugged her legs pleasantly. The neck was a little short for her liking but she supposed it was easier for the younger kids to play. Her biggest qualm with the instrument was the strings themselves. Their gauge was too large for the guitar making it more difficult to press each one to the fret board. Perhaps that's something she could take care of another day but for right now she could only work with what she had.

"So, where do we start?" Henry asked.

"With the basics," Emma replied. "Do you know the names of the strings?"

Henry nodded and correctly identified each string.

"Good," Emma smiled. "How about the notes for each string?"

"I have this music book…but I can't read the music," Henry said.

"Let's take a look at that book."

Henry rummaged through his book bag until he located the thin book entitled "Beginners Guitar". He opened it to the first page which pictured a melody written in staff notation to be played on the high E string only. Emma studied the notes for a second before plucking the simple melody with her finger. She then handed the guitar to Henry and allowed him to get it comfortably situated on his lap before explaining how to read the notes on the staff.

"The first thing you need to know is what the lines and spaces on the staff are for. The lines are, from bottom to top, E, G, B, D, F. I'm sure your teacher said something along the lines of 'Every Good Boy Does Fine,'" Emma explained. Though given the most recent villain in town, she was more inclined to use the phrase 'Evil Green Bitches Die First'. While Henry might appreciate the comedy, she decided to keep this to herself reasoning that others might not find that particular humor in it.

"'Deserves Fudge," Henry said.

"Huh?"

"Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge."

"That works too," Emma said. "So, the spaces are for the notes F, A, C, E."

Henry frowned a little as he looked at the music on the sheet before him.

"I'm never going to remember this," he said.

"Hey, sure you will," Emma encouraged. "Maybe not at first but you have to practice. You can't expect to learn how to play without practicing a bunch."

"But you have magic; can't you just _magic_ me good at guitar?" Henry complained.

Emma laughed a little at his pouting face.

"_That_ would be cheating, Henry," Emma said, ruffling his hair again. "Look, here I'll show you just how easy it is. Remember we're just working with the first string, okay? Now the first note is on what space on the staff?"

Henry thought for a second and replied with, "E"

"Good, now how to you play an E on the first string?"

"It's just the open string," Henry said as he plucked the string.

"Now where is the next note on the staff?"

"It's uh…F?"

"Yup, and how do you play it on the first string?"

"Umm…first fret," Henry said as he pressed down on the string and plucked.

"See you don't even need my help," Emma said with a smile. "And the next note?"

Henry studied the staff in front of him, brows furrowed and tongue peeking through his lips.

"I dunno, it's not _on_ the staff, it's above it."

"Well, the last note was F, right?" Emma asked.

Henry nodded.

"And since this note is right above the F spot, what letter comes next?"

"G?"

"That's it, now play that."

Henry played the correct note on the third fret of the guitar by sliding his pointer finger from the first fret to the third. Emma chuckled a little, remembering how odd it was at first for her to use all her fingers stretched across the fret board.

"What's funny? Did I play it right?"

"Yeah, kid you did, but here, try this," Emma said as she grabbed ahold of his wrist. "Put your thumb here behind the neck instead of holding it like you're about to choke it. It'll let you move your fingers easier."

"That _hurts_," Henry complained.

"Oh come on, it doesn't hurt. It's uncomfortable, sure, but trust me, you'll get used to it. Now you can use your index finger to play the first fret and your ring finger to play the second fret."

Henry tired it out, alternating between playing the notes with both fingers. The G needed a little work as he was still positioning his finger too close to the fret itself causing a buzzing noise when he struck the note. But it was still progress. After a few moments of getting the feel for the new hand position, Henry was well on his way to playing a simple three note melody.

Emma beamed as she watched her son concentrate so hard on the music before him. Truly he was a quick learner and eventually he was able to play the entire melody without missing a note. Her pride in him soared when he even attempted the next song without her encouragement.

"Can we work on the next string?" Henry asked after he felt he had successfully mastered the first.

Emma chuckled again at how excited Henry had become over learning to read music. It didn't take long for Henry to learn the notes on the F-string either. His troubles began when he had to alternate playing notes on both strings. Emma simply smiled and encouraged him to keep practicing. After another half hour of his practicing the same melodies over and over, Henry finally stopped playing, complaining that his fingertips were too sore to press on the strings any longer.

"You wanna stay for dinner?" Emma inquired.

"I can't, I told mom that I'd be home to help her cook tonight. She's making chicken tetrazzini."

"Ahh yes, it's rather impossible to say no to your mo - Regina's - pasta," Emma joked, trying to keep her voice level.

"Yeah, so, you'll help me with guitar again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, kid…tomorrow," Emma reassured him.

Henry packed his music book back in his schoolbag while Emma rinsed his depleted mug of hot chocolate in the sink.

"Thanks for helping me mom," Henry called out as he was about to walk out the door. "And I'm glad you're feeling better."

"No problem kid, and me too. Be safe walking home, okay?"

"I will, love you!"

"Love you too," Emma called after him.

And then she was alone again. She checked the time on her watch which indicated it was nearing 4pm. She was amazed at how long the day felt when she wasn't drinking. In fact, Henry's short visitation seemed to be the fastest part of the day. She hadn't realized that they were sitting there on the couch for nearly an hour and a half. And now that Henry had left and she was alone again, time seemed to move impossibly slow.

In about another hour Snow would be getting home toting her baby brother in as well. She supposed that she could find some way to occupy herself until then and then maybe spend some time with Neal. At this point, Emma was looking for almost any excuse to keep her mind busy and off the thought of having a drink which was much easier said than done.

But still she sat there on the couch, constantly fighting the thought of having a drink. It was growing tiresome, trying to find reasons why she shouldn't have a drink when everything in her told her to run down to the Rabbit Hole. She held onto that little promise she'd made herself; to give herself a chance to analyze her situation with a clear mind. She held on to that because the more she thought about her other option, the more her mind began to panic.

Because along with that last option came thoughts of Regina and of her parents and everyone else she'd known here in Storybrooke. She didn't want to be thinking about all those things. She didn't want to feel the crushing guilt weighing on her bones. She didn't want to think of it and yet her mind seemed only capable of bouncing back and forth between that very guilt and drinking.

She just wanted it all to end. She didn't want to fight it anymore. She didn't want to live every moment alone resisting the strong compulsion to drink or feeling guilty over what she had done to Regina. If that's what her life had come to, she'd rather forget about it all entirely instead of becoming a codependent parasite that needed to be in the company of someone else just to function.

And even then, she wasn't sure she'd function normally. Hell, she could barely utter Regina's name in front of the son they shared. What the hell would she do when Regina was the topic of conversation or better yet, when she was around? The truth was that Emma couldn't avoid the brunette forever, not if she stayed here in Storybrooke.

The entire situation was just so damn frustrating.

And that frustration eventually boiled into anger.

The bottom line was that this whole entire fucking cycle of frustration, anger, and guilt was eating her alive. She didn't know how much more of it she could take. It consumed her every waking thought. And it's not like things were any better while she slept. Because as the past few nights have proven, sleep was a commodity that she's been denied. The whole fucked up cycle was simply exhausting. And sober or not, Emma wasn't sure if she wanted to deal with it any longer.


End file.
